


Crumbling

by orangeCrates



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Betrayal, M/M, Please Practise Fire Safety, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeCrates/pseuds/orangeCrates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a terrible ordeal, Malik comes face to face with the fact that the cause of this tragedy was a lot closer than he'd first suspected.</p><p>And the worst thing about being betrayed was that you then had to go back and look at all the memories associated with that person and wonder what was real and what was a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumbling

**Author's Note:**

> ROUND 6 of the evil contest! I had to find someone to read this one to make sure it wasn't trying to hard to be evil to the point where it was desensitizing.
> 
> This was the prompt:
> 
> Character 1 is taken and sold in another country as a (insert purpose here) slave, but too old and too stubborn to 'break' or give in, rebels for years despite the painful consequences and keeps their sanity only by promising they will find their back to character 2. It takes years (at least a decade) before they manage to steal back their freedom, and having barely mentally and physically survived, 1 finds 2 only to learn that 2 is the one that sold them and is still selling others.

Some days, they hit him first.

"Hey! Easy there." The foreman said, but there was no urgency in the way he frowned at the guard who had just punched Malik.

The guard laughed, "sorry. I forgot he hadn't done anything yet." A few of the men chuckled along like it was so hilarious. Malik was still doubled over so the guard reached over to grab him, "come on. Get up."

Malik glared up at him and, without warning, jerked forward and head-butted the guard with a satisfying crack.

The man was clutching at his nose and swearing and it brought Malik a sense of satisfaction that was almost like peace seconds before someone else hit him across the head with a baton.

* * *

Kadar was the one who introduced them.

When it happened, Malik had been flustered and he glared at Kadar who was just _grinning_ (he knew Malik's tastes well enough to know Malik's definition of attractive and that Altair fit very neatly into it), as Altair held out a hand to shake his.

Malik didn't actually believe in love at first sight, but Altair was _charming_ and it was easy to agree to a walk on the beach, away from the noise of the crowded party. It was the summer before college and he was feeling reckless and fearless in the quiet of the evening.

He thought, (and maybe it was the cocktail he'd had earlier speaking), what was the point if you didn't take some risks in life?

Altair had grinned at him when Malik asked him out.

"I'd love to." He said as he stepped closer to Malik, until their noses were just brushing and Malik said, "oh. That's good."

* * *

The memory of their first meeting was a sweet balm the moments before Malik slowly woke up.

If it weren't for the cramped space, not even enough room for Malik to sit without hunching, it might have been easier to pretend that he wasn't where he was.

Malik sighed and shuffled as much as he could (which wasn't much at all) and clung to the image of Altair's face, the way you could see a hint of teeth when he smiled, the taste of his kisses and the soft touch of his fingers in Malik's hair, the stupid, sappy words he whispered into Malik's ear when he was trying to make him laugh.

He hadn't experienced all those during that first meeting, or even on the first date, but they were precious things and Malik held onto them like his life depended on it.

There was no saying how long he was locked in the darkness, but he thought, it'd be a while yet before they came to let him out so he pressd his head to the top of is knees and tried to imagine the cadence of Altair's voice wishing him goodnight before they went to sleep.

* * *

They had been dating for six years (it would have been sixteen years now, if things hadn't gone so terribly wrong) when Malik came back to a candle lit apartment.

"What's this all about?" Malik said and even though he tried to frown, he wasn't jaded enough to stop the way his mouth turned up into a smile as Altair stepped up to him to pull him close.

"Marry me." He said, against Malik's lips as his hand slid down Malik's arm to press a ring against his palm.

"What would you do if I said no?" But Malik turned his hand around the catch the ring properly.

"Ask again?" Altair bent down to press a kiss against the ring and then to Malik's thumb, "I didn't think you'd say 'no'."

Malik shook his head. "So arrogant." He stared at the ring for a moment before he plucked it off his palm and slipped it on. "Yes." He said.

* * *

They'd taken the ring the night they had taken him. But the phantom sensation of it sitting on his finger seemed almost real in those delirious moments when they drugged him.

Malik was generally suspicious of whatever food they gave him (after all, his drink had been drugged at a club when he went dancing with Altair). There was no stopping his body's need for sustenance, but at least they needed him lucid for the work they attempted to make him do over the years.

He had been taken here to act as forced labour, but he had openly sabotaged any work given to him and the same went for whatever they made him do, or what sort of slave they made him.

(They had attempted, perhaps as some kind of sick joke, to make him a sex slave, once. They had coached him on how to speak accented English to appear more exotic and in return he had bitten the first client they sent to him hard enough that they did not try it again.)

So he was surprised when he felt dizzy after mealtime, but he was still concious when they came in to drag him out of his cell.

(And he was still vaguely aware of things when they strapped him to a cool metal table, but still drugged up enough to be confused by the _glint_ of metal that they held over his arm before his world was awash with _pain_.)

* * *

When Malik left for college, Altair had kissed him after two months of going steady.

He had said, "I'll wait for you. Come back soon."

* * *

He had a fever in the aftermath of them harvesting his arm and he thought, he's waiting for you.

He's waiting; you have to go back.

The thought haunted him as he fought against the fever.

At the periphery of his awareness, he thought he heard people talking.

_Is he even worth saving?_

_Well, he's young and healthy. He still has a lot he can give._

* * *

They'd taken one of his kidneys before Malik managed to steal a cellphone.

His fingers were shaking as he dialled an emergency number aware that if he were caught, he'd be punished severely.

(But what was the worst they could do at this point? Kill him.)

He sat huddled in a corner with the phone pressed to his ear and he prayed for just a minute, just long enough for the dialling tone to turn into a click and then into a human voice telling him he had the emergency hotline and _how can I help you today, sir?_

"Help me." He said, and it was almost all he knew how to say even when the woman prompted him for more information.

* * *

Staring at the number of their old house on the phone, Malik was gripped with a sudden fear that his brother would not answer.

He had called their old apartment only to find that Altair no longer lived there (he supposed it was unavoidable. He had been gone for ten years). Altair's cellphone yielded the same results.

It was possible that even Kadar had left. Malik had steeled himself for that possibility as he pressed 'call'. He was prepared for the disappointment, so he was struck dumb when Kadar picked up with a confused, "hello? Who is this?"

He sobbed, "Kadar." instead of an actual response.

"Who is this? If this is a prank--"

"Kadar. It's me."

There was a shocked silence on the other end, "Malik? You're alive?"

* * *

Kadar hugged him the moment he arrived, heedless of the blanket Malik was wrapped up in.

"I'm so glad you're home." He said and Malik couldn't even summon the self-control not to cry into his baby brother's shoulder.

* * *

The moment Malik was home and in his old bedroom (not a guest room) he fell asleep almost immediately. He barely even remembered walking through the door or taking off his shoes.

He slept deeply, but it was not restful. When he was a slave, all he dreamed of were blue skies and fresh air, soft beds and warm blankets.

Now, wrapped in the quilts of his (brother's) home, all that filled his dreams were derisive laughter and cold, dark rooms.

* * *

In the morning, the first thing he asked was, "where's Altair?"

He knew something was wrong when Kadar's face fell.

"Oh. I--of course they hadn't told you." He pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate with his fork (Malik had barely touched his breakfast himself).

"Did--" Malik swallowed the fear and he thought, Altair had been at the club with him that night. What if he had also been taken? "did something happen to him?"

Kadar sighed and placed his fork down, pushing his chair back to stand up. "It might be easier just to show you."

He listened to Kadar's footsteps leaving the room as he stared into the mug of coffee Kadar had made him. His heart was pounding and he thought, he might have been there too. Why hadn't he thought to check if Altair had been safe first?

It felt like an eternity before Kadar came back with his laptop. He pulled the chair over to sit beside Malik and opened chrome.

The headline of the article he pulled up read, "LEADER OF HUMAN TRAFFICKING RING ON THE RUN".

"What's this?" Malik asked, but his voice shook because underneath it was a photo of Altair and he thought, this couldn't mean what he thought it meant.

"Malik..." Kadar put a hand on his shoulder and until then he hadn't realized it was shaking. "They found a list of missing people on his computer. Your name was on the list."

But Malik shook his head, even as Kadar pulled up another article, this one with the list printed as well as the status of each person (many of them reading deceased). "It can't be. Kadar, there has to be some mistake. He wouldn't--"

" _I was the one who found the list._ " Kadar's hand tightened on Malik's shoulder, "I didn't want to believe it either. The--the police went to arrest him but someone must have tipped him off or--I don't know. But he wasn't there."

Malik was shaking like he was going to fall to pieces and he thought, it can't be. It just _can't_. He was still shaking his head even as Kadar pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Malik."

* * *

He locked himself in his room afterwards, his fists pulling at his own hair and he thought, _you promised to wait_ and _I came back for you._

* * *

"You," Altair had said as he rolled on top of Malik, "are beautiful."

Malik laughed at him, before Altair smothered his laughter with a kiss, "do you tell all your lovers that."

The next kiss against the corner of Malik's mouth. "You don't believe me?"

The mock-hurt tone earned him another laugh. Malik linked his fingers behind Altair's neck and he said, "Not at all."

* * *

Malik went through the next few days like he was in a trance, he barely left the room except when Kadar bullied him into showering or eating. He sat there and picked apart his memories and tried to make sense of all of it (tried to figure out which were lies and which might have held some truth to them).

By the fourth day, when Kadar came to check in on him, he asked for the computer.

He felt _numb_ at first, before it was over-taken by _anger_.

The laptop was thrown to the ground before Malik drew his knees up. He thought about the dark room he was put into and it might have been easier if he had died there instead of coming back to all this.

* * *

Kadar had been with him everyday after he came back. "It's okay," He said, "I've asked them not to send me anywhere for now." Kadar hugged his brother (so thin, so very fragile in his arms), "not while you still need me."

He helped feed him, providing him a balanced diet that would be easy on his body, the way the doctors had suggested. He made sure Malik made it to all his appointments and held him when the dark frightened him.

Recovery was a rocky road, but Kadar was there every step of the way, holding him when he cried and sleeping at his side when the nightmares were at their worst.

So when Kadar had to leave for work reasons nearly a year after Malik returned, Malik was trying not to feel the clench of his chest but the very realization of separation was terrifying. But he was trying to be brave, to be the older brother he had been ten years ago, the one who fussed at Kadar about remembering to bring his toothbrush.

But this time, Kadar was the one to press a kiss to his forehead. "You'll be fine." Kadar mumbled and squeezed Malik's hand.

"Yeah." Malik said and it didn't feel like such a lie now, but still he said, "will you be back soon?"

Kadar smiled at him, open and honest, "as soon as I can. I promise. Call me every day, okay?"

* * *

Most nights, Malik could sleep until morning without medicines.

Tonight, he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling for hours before he sighed and got up. He was headed to the kitchen for something warm to drink, wanting to try that before he went for the pills. He was on his way back to his room when he saw that the light in the study was on. He stopped, his fingers tightening on his mug before he slowly walked towards the door.

Maybe he had left the light on by mistake (his memory seemed to have become poor since his ordeal).

He had no second had to push the door open so he nudged it open with his foot.

His breath caught when he saw a silhouette in the room that he recognized and the sound made Altair turn around.

He seemed stunned, and then he took a step towards him, "Malik--"

There was a pounding in Malik's ears that drowned out every other sound that came out of Altair's mouth. He could hear his own breathing, heavy and quick as Altair stepped closer to him, his hand outstretched--

All of a sudden, just as Altair's fingers brushed against his jaw, Malik let out a strangled scream and he lifted his hand up and smashed the mug against Altair's temple.

He didn't let go of the mug and felt some of the hot tea ("Camomile." Kadar had told him the first time he handed him the mug, "I know you don't like flower teas, but this helps you sleep. I added some honey too.") drip onto his hand.

"You bastard!" He screamed and he pulled his arm back to hit him again, but Altair was prepared this time and caught him by the forearm. The wrestled there until Malik found himself pinned to the wall. It did not stop him from struggling, from trying to kick out--to do something to hurt Altair.

"Malik! Listen to me!"

"Fuck you!" He screamed and he didn't care at the spit that flew from his mouth, "you sold me!"

"I didn't!" Altair shouted back, pressing himself flush against Malik's body to keep him from moving. "It wasn't me, Malik! I was framed!"

His proximity made Malik shudder in disgust, but with the side of his face pressed against the wall, there was nothing he could do.

"They found the evidence on your computer! In your apartment! Kadar--"

"Kadar was the one who planted all of it!" Altair's grip on his wrist was painful, but Malik still turned against it, felt his shoulder strain at the angle he put it in as he snarled.

"Don't lie!"

"I'm not lying." Altair said, "I've never lied to you. Kadar knew where to find everything because he put it there. He was the one doing all this, not me!"

"He's my brother!"

(He was the one who helped him pick up the pieces of his life after it was broken.)

"He's a monster." Altair's grip did not loosen, but when he spoke again it was gentle as the brush of a feather, "I kept the ring. The one you bought me, remember? I was going to marry you. Why would I do this to you?"

Malik shut his eyes and he wished he could close his ears to Altair's words (to the poisonous lies). He didn't want to listen to them, if he did his resolve might waver--

"I love you, Malik. I've been looking everywhere for you since I realized you were still alive. I came here because I couldn't find you and I thought--"

"Shut up. Just...shut up." Malik sagged against the wall and he was embarrassed to realize that his eyes were hot with tears.

There was a pause and Malik could imagine the way Altair must have been frowning at him, thoughtful and uneasy. When he stepped back, Malik slid to his knees and his hand balled into a fist as Altair stepped back. "Be careful, Malik. You can't trust him."

When Malik finally turned around, Altair was gone.

* * *

Malik called the police and Kadar came home earlier than planned.

Kadar came to him, worry written all over his face and Malik relaxed. "Are you all right? Did he do anything?"

Mutely, Malik shook his head, "I--I'm fine. He didn't do anything."

He couldn't say why, exactly he lied, but something about what Altair said nagged at him.

He was a poor liar, but Kadar seemed to accept his words with a nod (he wasn't a very good speaker in general these days and maybe Kadar dismissed any strangeness on his part as nerves).

* * *

In the days following that encounter, he pored over the articles again, combing over all the details trying to find reassurances that the truth he believed was what it was.

Instead, he looked at the list of names and dates and found doubt entering his thoughts.

"You were surprised I was alive." Malik said one day when he was done folding laundry. He had been a detective before all this. He never flinched or looked away during an interrogation but now his gaze was fixed on the white sheet beneath his hands instead of on his brother when he added, "on the list. I hadn't been listed as dead yet."

Kadar was quiet for a moment.

"Well, that was years ago. When you didn't come back I had to prepare myself for the worst."

It made sense, which was why Malik nodded.

* * *

But when he looked at the list, something caught his attention and he looked through the study for Kadar's old travel records.

Many of the cities the victims disappeared in were ones he had visited.

* * *

Malik jumped one day when his phone rang. The id was unknown but he knew, in the pit of his stomach who it probably was.

"What do you want?" Malik said and he couldn't stop the way his voice shook.

"He needs to be stopped, Malik. We can stop him, together."

He hung up on him without giving an answer.

* * *

When they were children, Kadar had been afraid of storms.

"I think there are monsters at my window." He'd whispered when Malik lifted his blankets for him to crawl into his bed.

"Don't worry." He'd said as Kadar snuggled up against his side, "I'll protect you."

* * *

"He said something, didn't he." Kadar did-not-ask during dinner one night. Malik stared at his dinner. It had been his favourite before everything and Kadar had made it exactly the way he liked it. "Malik." He said and took Malik's hand, "You can't trust him. Don't fall for his tricks again."

Malik nodded, "I know."

* * *

Right before he was taken, he had been working on missing persons case, many of which were on the list Kadar had found on Altair's computer.

It wasn't entirely legal, but Malik managed to get the files from an old co-worker.

He had to have been close. It was the only explanation for why things happened when they did.

There was no comfort in the truth, Malik knew.

Either the man he loved had betrayed him or the brother he grew up with had.

There was no answer here that did not hurt, that wasn't a knife being driven into his heart.

There was no _peace_ in seeking the truth, no light at the end of the tunnel that wasn't something worse than the darkness.

It would be easier to keep his head down, to ignore and move on, build a fantasy for himself that wouldn't hurt him.

But in the end, he wanted--needed to _know_.

(Oh, but when he had the truth in front of him he threw his head back and laughed until his voice cracked, until he felt hollowed of everything.)

* * *

Malik we need to talk meet me at the old house at the corner. come or I will go to the police with everything.

* * *

Malik sat in an old abandoned house, and waited.

He and Kadar used to sneak into here and play hide-and-seek when they were children. The building had yet to be condemned and they had spent many happy days in here until they were caught and they'd borded up the back door.

Oh, but they hadn't know about the loose window and when Malik was twenty one, he had brought Altair here to get away from the rain. They had kissed like stupid teenagers they were too old to be and it hadn't mattered that the place had smelled like mouldy wood because Altair's skin had tasted like spring and rain.

He closed his eyes and sat with his back against the wall as he waited for them to arrive _now _and he thought, how nice it would be when those memories and everything to do with them finally went up in flames.__

__Malik smiled._ _


End file.
